Impulse response
by Kasperka
Summary: Gold could charm the panties off a nun if he wanted to. He just doesn't particularly want to. Belle on the other hand... Gold/Belle, AU, PWP sort of. If there are any warnings needed, they'll be in the A/N at the top of each chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** _I'd like to thank CharlotteAshmore for inspiring me to write and FaerieTales4ever for helping me do so. I'm only on Season 1 of OUAT, plus this is AU, so, you know... I wasn't gonna publish any of this until it was finished, but it's been burning a hole in my brain for a while, so I thought I'd soothe my aching head by sharing the first chapter._

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own anything related to OUAT, though I'd like to own Robert Carlyle's hair, for cloning purposes. Yes, I'm that kind of creepy_

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><p>CHAPTER 1<p>

He couldn't be sure what possessed him to go up to her. There were always attractive women in the club. He wasn't blind. Even her friend, the lanky brunette, with the red streaks in her hair was plenty gorgeous. But not quite like her.

Maybe it was the way she hadn't ignored him.

He sat in his booth, overlooking the bar, enjoying the music. Blues had always suited him. It was slow, with sadness and suffering built into it, with a bit of cheek, to keep you on your toes. Jazz was too jittery and unpredictable, rock was just too loud. Here, people came for the music. As he twirled the glass of scotch, leaning comfortably on the black leather seat, he glanced over to the bar. He would always people-watch, out of habit and out of necessity, his line of work not exactly making him many friends.

This time there were no enemies at the gates. But there she was. Smiling, leaning at the bar, asking for a drink.

You didn't see many young women at blues clubs these days. Maybe she had come in on the wrong night. The club did cover other genres as well. Her tall friend seemed out of place, looking bored and annoyed. She, on the other hand, the one he watched, seemed perfectly comfortable, a bright yellow sun dress gracing her form. She was light in the otherwise dark, smoky room. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, long chestnut hair falling down her back, to her waist, where her dress flared out. There was a petticoat underneath, he could see and he found himself wondering about the sound the crinkling material would make if he pushed it up her legs.

He smiled at this, shaking his head in amusement. He sipped at his scotch, keeping his gaze locked on the sloshing liquid for a moment before turning toward her again,..

This time she raised her head and looked back. She smiled brightly. At him. Well, that was new. He held her gaze, more out of habit. Usually, people would lose a staring contest with him. It was a form of intimidation, that. He dared her to look away. _Prove you're like everybody else_, he thought. _Or prove you're not_, a secret voice inside him wished. He gave her a crooked smile and lifted his glass, inclining his head in a silent toast. _To your pretty petticoats, darlin'._

She returned the gesture, taking a sip of her own drink.

This little exchange finally drew the attention of her friend. She followed her gaze to him, then back then, seeming shocked, back to him. Poking her friend in the shoulder, the tall one seemed to be upset, pointing rudely at him while appearing to yell at her friend.

Normally, he would have stayed out of it. What should he care about two strange girls arguing? It was their business. He was here to relax. Nonetheless, he found himself reaching for his cane and making his way toward the bar. He kept his eyes on her, her features calm as she listened to her friend's tirade. Above the music, the words reached him.

"And anyway, he's short", the tall girl protested, sounding exasperated.

"I don't care."

"And he's _old_!"

"Still don't care."

The handle of his cane landed between the girls, making them both turn. Pulling back and with a smile, he added:

"You forgot 'crippled', dearie".

The tall one opened her mouth to protest, but there was really nothing she could say. The words out of her mouth hadn't been intended for his ears and now there was no point in denying what she had said. She looked as though she was about to stomp her foot in frustration. Quite amusing, he thought, chuckling softly. Not amusing enough to distract him from his original purpose, though. His eyes raked up the girl in the yellow dress, from her small feet, up her calves, to those infernal petticoats and up, to her bare shoulders and finally, her genuine, warm smile. He had to wonder what was wrong with her. How could she smile like that at him. Him, the town's bogeyman.

He turned to her, nodding a hello. The question was for the tall girl, but he spoke to her, not wanting to waste any more time on the redhead.

"Would you mind giving me a moment alone with your friend?"

There was a nod from her, immediately silencing the onslaught of protest that was undoubtedly about to hit. For the first time that evening, under the music and chatter of the club, he heard the yellow dress girl speak.

"Ruby, it's fine. I'll be okay. You can go."

Another inward chuckle. He would have loved to have seen the tall girl's, Ruby's, face. But his attention was otherwise engaged and he didn't wish to break eye contact with this interesting little creature. Hearing Ruby stomp off, he remained where he was, a couple of feet away from her, so she could hear him and he wouldn't encroach on her personal space. There could be time to encroach later.

"I don't mind," she spoke finally, a little blush creeping up her face. He may have imagined it, in the dimly lit club, but he thought it would suit her nonetheless.

"You don't mind what, love?" he asked.

Inclining her head toward the floor, she spoke:

"I don't mind your cane. I think it's quite lovely, from what I could see. Was that a dragon on the handle?"

He nodded, coming closer, leaning on the bar where her friend was. Taking the weight off his cane, he lifted it for her to inspect. Her eyes focused on it, mouth opening slightly, as her fingers came up to touch the gold dragon decorating the handle. As she ran her fingertips over it softly, he felt his jaw muscles tighten. A girl with her hands on his long... hard... stick... He couldn't help but see the connection. Her fingers trailed down from the dragon, along the lacquered wood, to the place he was gripping it, trailing his knuckles lightly and then away.

She seemed to come out of a fog, refocusing on him, wetting her lips.

"It's quite beautiful," she noted, sounding a little breathless.

"Yes, quite beautiful, indeed," he nodded, glancing along her, from head to toe, making it entirely clear that he was _not_ talking about the cane. Without a second thought, he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and offered it to her.

"It might be somewhat old-fashioned, but I would like to call you some time. May I have your number?"

Part of him expected it not to take it. It was, after all, a bad idea to get involved with a loan shark, if you could help it at all. Not that he thought of himself that way, he was an entrepreneur, providing his services to those in need, at a price. But other people saw him as a cold and vicious predator and he wouldn't have been surprised if her friend's words would have finally caught up with her, knocking some sense into those pretty chestnut curls. On the other hand, he was far too self-serving to try to dissuade her from providing her details and getting entangled with him.

After some fiddling, she gave the phone back. He didn't check if she had written anything down. A man has his pride, after all. Just as she was handing it back, her fingers finding another reason to brush against his, her friend came back to drag her away. Something about a sick granny. He didn't care. He enjoyed her whisper of a touch, the second time that evening. She looked at him apologetically, while being escorted away. Then she seemed to remember something, planted her feet to the surprise of her aggressive friend and called out to him.

"Hey, Scottish!"

He couldn't help a smile at that. _Really, dearie, Scottish is what you will go with?_ But then he remembered he hadn't introduced himself. He usually didn't need to. People came to him and knew who he was beforehand. There was never a need for politeness at those times.

"Yes?", he asked, his face flickering to her friend, who looked horrified that somebody would ever assume such a familiar tone with him, seeming to expect him to turn her little friend into a snail and crush her.

"Will you call?"

There was a small, insecure smile on her face. She really wanted him to call. How strange...

"Of course, dearie."

He watched her go with her friend, looking over her shoulder to see if he was still there. Her petticoat swished around her legs as she bounced happily. He smiled to himself. It will be fun finding out what's underneath.

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><p><strong>Sidenote:<strong> _Reviewing my author's notes from my first fic, I realized I was studying the same damn thing I'm studying now and not being any more successful with it :)That's what the fic name is about: the stuff I'm supposed to be studying._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:**_ There will be smut here. If smut is not something you enjoy, please skip this chapter. _

**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own anything related to OUAT and also, I'm not making any money from writing this. If I were, there'd be more chapters, more often._

CHAPTER 2

"What the hell were you thinking?" Ruby yelled as she walked out of the club, leaving the noise behind. "Not only do you drag me to this... this pit! But you actually give your number to that creep. Do you have any idea who he is?!"

With a shrug, Belle simply answered "No."

"You know how there's stories that scare kids? Well, Gold is what scares adults! He has a pawnshop in town. He owns most of the property. He rents it out. He will do "favours" for people. But woe is you if you don't pay his price. He's a monster, Belle! He's mean and cruel. Why would you even talk to him?"

Belle shrugged again. There was no talking to Ruby when she was in such a state. She had already tried to talk her down when all of this was brought to her attention in the club. He seemed perfectly decent, polite, to her at least. Ruby could have fallen into the ground, for all he cared, it seemed. She never had somebody quite so focused on her and it felt odd, but not unwelcomed. His whole appearance appealed to her. From the shoulder-length grey streaked hair, to the dark three piece suit to his lovely cane. She suppressed a giggle. A phallic symbol, if ever she saw one and she caressed it. She played with it. While he watched. There was the curiosity, but also she had felt brave and flirtatious. She wasn't fooling herself into thinking his mind hadn't gone there, too. In fact, she wanted his mind _there_.

Hoping the redness of her cheeks from the cold covered the heat rising throughout her, she decided to check what Ruby was ranting about. It appeared she had worn herself out explaining Mr. Gold's nefarious deeds. Shame Belle hadn't paid attention and missed all of it. As they reached her home, Ruby finally turned to her, sighing, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Look, I only want you to be safe. I know you're a big girl and can make your own decisions. I think you shouldn't have given him your number, but a number doesn't mean anything. Hopefully, he'll call and show what an ass he is and you'll send him packing."

"Thanks for the summary..." Belle grumbled, looking away from her. She knew Ruby meant well, but she didn't need to be told the same thing for the third time in a span of an hour.

"Belle, you're my friend, my buddy, my gal-pal. I want the best for you. You go out and try it with Gold, if you must. But one step out of line and I swear I'll tear him to pieces."

She couldn't help smiling at that. Ruby may have been forceful but she was a devoted friend as well. This earned her a small, reassuring hug from Belle.

"I would expect nothing less. Thanks for looking out for me. Plus, you never know, maybe he won't call." she added as an afterthought.

"Oh, he'll call. You just be careful when he does."

Saying their goodbyes, the two friends parted.

As she made her way up the stairs to her little apartment, Belle thought about the events of the evening. It had gone well. Her intention hadn't been to find a partner. She had come for some music. This new place didn't offer much choice and she was thrilled to find something she enjoyed. She was quite surprised by the man with the cane. Scottish. Gold. She giggled to herself thinking of the golden dragon on his cane. She should have guessed.

Ruby wasn't all wrong, though. Belle sensed the darkness around him. He was not a good man. Despite his rather lithe body, he exuded considerable presence. This was a man who knew the power he had over people. Yet he'd been nothing but pleasant to her. It was a puzzle and Belle wanted the mental workout. Judging by her reaction to his voice, the almost imperceptible chill that ran through her, she may have been getting herself into more than just a _mental_ workout.

Now all that needed to happen was for her to see him again...

She woke up and made a grab for her phone. One message.

"_You should be in my bed..."_

Well, he didn't beat around the proverbial bush, did he? She looked at the message incredulously. The nerve of the man! Nevertheless, she had to afford it a single smile. She had thought about it. What it would have been like if he would have taken her home. He just had the guts to put it in writing. Some social norms still held her, sadly, and she couldn't help feeling a bit apprehensive at such a clear statement of intent. She could just see her father talking to Gold.

"And what are your intentions towards my daughter?"

"Completely and utterly dishonorable, 100% impure, totally filthy, dearie!" would be the reply.

Perhaps she should listen to Ruby. Ruby had more experience, knew of Gold and his foul deeds, or so she claimed. Maybe if Belle stayed away from him, she would save herself a world of hurt and some mental scarring as well. Maybe it was the prudent thing to do. But oh, how he made her curious. With just five words, he brought up her small, secret fantasy, he made his intentions clear, he made her feel desired and a little scared. She worried her lower lip, thinking of the possibilities. Reply and commit to seeing him again, ignore and pretend last night never happened?

Heaving herself out of bed, she decided to leave the decision for later. Not a consummate procrastinator, she was surprised at her lack of an immediate, clear cut response. There was the possibility of loss, but also the glimmering, golden flecks of gaining something new and exciting. She would answer after work. He was probably busy, anyway. He wouldn't be looking at his phone the entire day, waiting for a message from her, would he? Yes, later was the right way to go.

He took in her appearance form where he stood. She wore a dress again. He liked that. It made for easier access to any more interesting parts of her. It was a little black vintage dress, with sleeves and as she reached up to tuck away a book, he saw a flash of frilly red material underneath. Bloody petticoats would be the end of him.

He hadn't intended to come see her, but his curiosity ate away at him. He wanted to know how his message had affected her. It would either be entertaining, watching her fume and fuss and tell him she's not that kind of girl. Or... it would have hit home. He was hoping for the latter. He'd mostly been a patient man. He only had no patience for people who tried to swindle him or break a deal. But that was all.

"Will you call?" she had asked. In a sense, she'd made a deal for him to call. She'd agreed to speak to him. And then he hadn't received a reply. She was breaking their deal. This rationalization, of course, was merely that – a rationalization. He knew better why he had no patience to wait for her messages. He wanted to know how it would end. He knew how most things would end, in business and in life. Here, he was uncertain. And he hated being uncertain.

Finding out where she worked was no problem. He was owed favors all over town. Calling the minor ones in, Gold quickly learned she worked at the old library. Owning a business such as his provided certain perks and a flexible work schedule was one of them. He could come and go as he pleased and by the early afternoon that day, he had definitely wanted to go. Now he stood back observing the high fantasy section in the back of the library. What a serendipitous name for a place where he stood, fantasizing, and for what he was about to do.

The few people who were there recognized him immediately, and scurried away. His gaze was intent on the young new librarian, meaning he had dealings with her. Few wondered what it could be. There was only one kind of dealing with Mr. Gold and that only happened when Mr. Gold was unhappy. And then he made sure you were bloody (and) unhappy, too. You got out of the way or you found yourself on the metal side of his cane. At least so the stories said. Nobody hung around to check if they were true.

For a man with a cane, he moved quite quietly. Years of practice, after all. Throwing a precautionary glance around, to see if they were alone, he approached her. As she stretched to put away another book from her trolley, he placed his hands on either side of her, holding on to the shelf. When she squeaked in surprise and came down off her toes, she had no choice but to land, pressed tightly against him. She was about to turn, when he pressed his face into her hair, his lips close to her ear, making her freeze.

"You didn't answer me, dearie..." he growled low, in her ear. He did want to scare her some, but more than that, he wanted to tease her, annoy her, make her uncomfortable. The pleasant side-effect of her fragrant curls tickling his face was an added bonus.

She stiffened. At first she was just terrified to see the foreign hands snake around her and block off any escape. But then he spoke and she knew who it was. Despite the music, the chatter, all the noise of the club last night, his voice stayed with her. She felt a part of her relax. A mental part only, while physically she was still on edge. This was an invasion of her personal space and she had meant to say something about it until she felt his breath on her neck, warm and close and intimate. She heard him inhale deeply.. There was a primal quality to him inhaling her scent. A thought flashed through her mind of next being marked as his. She shook it off. That was ridiculous. She had to stop this and give him a piece of her mind, trapped as she was between him and the stacks of books.

"I was going to... And why am I explaining myself to you? What do you think you're doing here anyway? And why are you doing this? Who the bloody hell do you think you are?! Get off me right this instant!" she blurted out in an angry whisper. It was still a library, after all.

He didn't seem to take her words terribly to heart as he stayed right where he was, pressing his chin into the crook of her neck. It would have been so easy to bend down and kiss her and taste her skin, but that would have to wait... a bit, at least.

"I am here for you. You don't have to explain yourself because, honestly, I don't care. The end result is the same, sweetheart. You made me wait. You made me want and you made me wait. And nobody, not even a pretty little thing like you, makes me wait." he answered in a low hiss, his words reiterated by his arm curling around her waist and pressing them both closer to the shelves. He could feel her heart pounding where he splayed his fingers over her abdomen, his thumb resting neatly between her breasts. All he had to do is curl it and...

She gasped and bucked.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing at all, dearie. You can make me stop whenever you want to. Just say the words. The question is, though... do you want to?"

This time, he nuzzled her neck, his light stubble grazing her skin, making her shiver. She closed her eyes and exhaled, relaxing into him.

He smiled. She could feel it against her skin. She wanted to scream and argue and tell him why this was wrong and how he had no right to do things like this to her. How he had no right to make her feel the way she was feeling. For once, though, her clever mind did the cleverest of things, and let her body take the lead. And her body wanted more of whatever was happening.

He moved his hand to her hip and gave her a little squeeze then, snapping her back to the present moment.

"Answer. The. Question.", he growled.

"N-no... I don't think so...", she replied, her breath shaking. She heard his lips part. She waited. It felt like forever, not knowing what will come next, whether he would speak, whether he would mock her for giving in so easily.

His teeth grazed the skin of her neck, sending a million little pinpricks down her spine. Then they sank into her skin, slowly, almost gently, his tongue tracing the skin between, tasting her. She couldn't help tilting her head back, leaning it on his shoulder for support, giving him more to work with. She could feel him smile again around her flesh, biting down harder this time. She let out a small grunt, raising her hands to his hair, grabbing on, tugging at it. She didn't want him to move away, she just needed something to hold on to. How long had it been since somebody touched her like this? She couldn't remember. Maybe because it had never happened. She had not felt such intense need ever in her life. She wasn't exactly experienced, but she was no blushing virgin, either. Nothing in her memory felt like this, only a bit of it showing up when she read special books. But Gold was not in a book. He was real. Very real. She could feel his body pressed into the length of hers, the heat radiating off it. She felt his teeth and tongue leave a trail from the sensitive flesh behind her ear, to her shoulder.

What she couldn't feel was any sign of arousal from him. She pressed herself closer, eliciting a groan from him, but still she couldn't feel it. She took one hand from his hair and slid it between them, slowly, searching. Feeling the buttons of his vest, she quested lower, over his belt and then... He grabbed her wrist and brought her hand to rest on the bookshelf in front of her.

"No, no, dearie. We'll be having none of that." he chastised, tracing his hand over her belly and up to her breasts. His lips were still on her, leaving little kisses, but it was not enough.

"But why?" she heard herself whine. Whine? Did she want to touch him that badly? Yes, yes she did. She wanted to know that he reacted to her the way she was reacting to him. That his skin was hot, that he quivered on the inside and that he was aroused. She wanted proof. Desperately. The next word seemed to follow naturally.

"Please..."

He held his breath for what felt like seconds. Did he hear her correctly? Did she just beg to be allowed to touch him? Oh, but this was getting even better than he could have thought. He had expected her to tell him to stop and when she reached for him, it was more surprise than anything else that made him stop her. But how could he deny her such a lovely request? Nudging her earlobe with his nose, he spoke soft and low.

"Ask nicely for what you want and you may get it, dearie..."

There was no fight in her, his touch leaving her needy.

"Please... would you please let me touch you? I need to...", the hand still in his hair massaging his scalp, soothing her with at least that minimal contact.

Suddenly she was turned around, her back against the shelves, his face inches from her. He smiled wickedly, watching for her next move. Would reality hit? Would she realize where she was and what she was doing? With whom she was doing it? He studied her carefully, looking for a change of heart, indecision, or a plain, flat-out plea to stop. Her eyes were glazed over and her lips parted. Her breaths came in ragged and left just as uneven. She looked stunning. He pressed himself to her and after a moment's hesitation, his lips were on hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was wet and hungry and conveyed all his need for her and hers for him. She returned it without thinking, moaning softly and placing both her hands on his lower back, pulling him to her. Her tongue met his and she tasted him, scotch and smoke. A brief flash of panic went through her, a warning to be careful what she's doing, she's a good girl after all, and good girls don't act like this. She neatly packed these thoughts away as she lost herself in Gold's kiss. Slowly she sucked along his tongue, making him groan and buck his hips into her. She couldn't feel anything through her stupid petticoats. They were whishing about, and she wanted to tear them off. Actually, she wanted him to tear them off!

He seemed to remember something and pulled away from their kiss, a crooked grin on his face.

"You wanted a feel, dearie... So what are you waiting for?"

Looking up at him, she felt the dare in his voice. _Come on, girlie, scurry away, be a scared little library mouse, don't worry, we all know you are one_. She wanted to prove him wrong but more than that, she wanted to touch him. It took more guts to do it like this, with him looking at her, a mocking smile on his face, expecting her upbringing to take over. With a shaking hand, she reached out and slid her finger lower, over his flat stomach, catching each button of his vest, over his belt buckle and then she felt him. Hot and hard and she felt powerful. She had caused this. She had made him this way. This was for her. This, he, was hers.

His eyes fluttered closed as her questing little hand slid up and down his length, through his trousers. She was so focused on what she was doing, she didn't even notice him lick his lips and sigh. He looked at her then, his eyes straining to stay open and he saw her gaze fixed on the motion of her hand, her lower lip being nibbled in concentration. She looked almost fascinated. As if she had never done this before. For all he knew, she might not have. Whatever the reason was, he couldn't stand looking at her without kissing her again. This time, the kiss was followed by him thrusting against her hand, seeking more friction. It was entirely overwhelming; she felt like he was everywhere at once and her knees shook from the feeling.

A thought ran rampant around his head. _Ask her. Tell her. Make her. _Would she? Or would the spell be broken? He broke their kiss, leaning against her, breathing heavily, his lips to her ear again, in a sweet, sing-song voice.

"On your knees, dearest."

For a second she seemed confused, her eyes growing wide as she realized what he meant. He looked at her with amusement. She may be more innocent than he had previously thought, but that was none of his concern. Either way he was getting something out of this little encounter.

He watched as she looked away in contemplation and then slowly sank to the floor. A part of him wanted to lift her up and say that it was enough, that she needn't degrade herself further. But that was a very small part, easily silenced. He stared on as she reached for his belt buckle, unclasping it and unbuttoning his trousers. He still couldn't quite believe it until he felt her warm little fingers close around his cock and pull it out of its confines. She looked at it and ran her hand over it curiously, then leaning forward, kissed the tip. If he weren't amazed at her actions, he would have giggled at this sweet gesture of introduction, completely out of character for the situation they found themselves in.

She knew how to do this. In theory she knew. She'd watched films. She had even tried it: fumbling teenage experiments in the dark, on summer vacation, shameful attempts with impatient boyfriends, ending in coughing and apologies. She'd never wanted it, never wanted the vile thing in her mouth, but would sometimes concede out of guilt or just to stop the pathetic pleading of her partner.

Gold hadn't pleaded. He hadn't given her many choices. Take it or leave it. "_You can make me stop whenever you want to. Just say the words."_ he had said. It could have been the haze of lust in her brain, but she didn't want to stop. She wanted to keep going and, gods help her, she wanted to taste him. For the first time in her meager experience, she liked what she saw. His cock was thick and heavy, with a dark pink glans, curving up slightly and straining to reach her. Time seemed to slow as she made up her mind, a million what-ifs and no-you-shouldn'ts overcrowding it. Her tongue came out and licked the underside of him, from root to tip, then pressed flat and wet against his frenulum. Her lips followed, wrapping softly around the base of the head.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to watch him watch her. Tilting her head a little, she looked up, to see his searing gaze fixed on her. His hands were at shoulder height, holding onto the shelves in front, his hair falling over his face, his lips parted. Slowly she moved down his length, watching him as his eyes shut slowly and his teeth clenched. Her hand encased him tightly, going in front of her lips, making up the distance she couldn't cover. She felt him hit the back of her throat, and fighting down the nervous cough bubbling up, she moved back, just as slowly.

She loved the weight of him, slick and hot, filling her mouth and her senses. He was clean and slightly salty at the tip. Closing her eyes, she let the sensation wash over her. The feel of him on her tongue, the slight friction there, wiggled its way through her body, landing in her lower belly and between her legs. She wanted more of him. She knew he would let her, if the quiet grunts and the occasional shiver were any indication.

His hands were still firmly planted on the shelf, knuckles white from the effort. He would look down at her from time to time. Her eyes were closed, her features mostly relaxed, an occasional little moan or hum of pleasure reverberating from her to him. Her insecure slow strokes grew bolder with her confidence, and he held on for dear life as this beautiful, unspoiled girl devoured him. She'd be plenty spoiled by the time he was through with her, he thought. He almost toppled over in surprised when he felt her press down on him, with a groan of effort. She was trying to take him down further, bless her talented little mouth. And without any prompting from him, either. This was all her. He fought the urge to push, letting her set the pace and get accustomed. She shuddered, but breathing through her nose, managed to calm herself. She pushed further, slowly, until finally, her nose was pressed to his lower abdomen. Gold let go of the shelf for a moment then, placing his hand in her hair, affording her his sincerest, warmest smile.

"Good girl...," he whispered, huskily.

Belle's heart soared. She did well. She had pleased him. She didn't know why this small praise meant so much. At that moment, she would have done anything to hear those words again.

After the first time, taking all of him became easier. She twirled her tongue around his cock as she went, trying, tasting, listening for his reaction to see what he enjoyed more. Her sole purpose was to bring him release. The rhythm she had built up was hypnotic. All other things faded away. She gauged his reactions and adjusted her speed and pressure, drawing his pleasure out. Gold's breath became ragged, his hips twitching, pressing into her, seeking more contact. He was close and she hummed with glee. She savored his slow disintegration, as he lost all composure, one of his hands tangling in her hair, holding her steady as he climaxed. He spilled over into the back of her mouth, not really giving her a choice on whether she would swallow or not. Belle didn't care, though. This was her prize. She had brought about the utter decimation of this man everybody feared. He was vulnerable to her, exposed and quaking. And it was all her doing. She waited patiently for him to look down at her, and then she made a show of swallowing, letting him know in no uncertain terms, that yes, he was accepted, all of him was. She proceeded to clean him off, placing soft, gentle kisses along his sensitive cock. Another sweet, unorthodox gesture not lost on him.

He felt his legs were going to give way, after all that. He grabbed his cane and propped himself up before he would collapse, embarrassing himself and ruining the moment completely. He stared down at her, unbelieving. Had he just received an amazing blow job, in the back of the library, from her, of all people? He could still see her head bobbing along his length, her lips tight around him and oh, pushing into her throat. What a proficient little thing she was! Was she going to cry now, realizing what she'd done? Would she feel ashamed? He tried to gauge her reaction, leaning against the opposite stack of books. Taking the weight off his leg felt good, and he exhaled contently. Her big, beautiful eyes looked up at him then. No tears. Well, that's good, he supposed. She even afforded him a shy smile, her cheeks turning pink.

"How do you feel?" he asked, reaching down to stroke her hair. There really wasn't any point in asking if she was all right. He could see that much. It worried him a little that she was still on the floor, but didn't intend to bring it up. Her hair was a mess and he tried to tuck bits of it back into something resembling order, finding the activity to be a welcome distraction before the probable awkward talk that would follow.

"I feel...", she started, not sure how to put it in words. The rules of her upbringing screamed in her head that this is not what daddy's princess would do, not how one should be treated, not what she was. The warmth in her body told her otherwise. She had let loose for once and she felt glorious. But she couldn't very well tell him that. Looking up at him, from her place, now sitting, on the ground, she tried her best to formulate a reply.

"I feel new. I've never felt like this, but it's good and I like it. I liked... that." she said, looking away, suddenly apprehensive.

The handle of his cane came to rest gently under her chin, tilting her head up. In a soft tone, oddly reassuring, he soothed her.

"No need to feel ashamed, sweetheart. You were amazing. Who thought that a demure little librarian hid such... talents?" the last word dripping with sensuous promise.

He would be having her again. He loved his collection of fine and rare things. She would fit right in.

**More notes:** _This is a work of fiction and as such, some important things are skipped, like asking for consent and safe sex practices. Please, do not do anything like this in real life, unless it is with a partner with whom you are fluid bonded. _


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:**__ Have fever, sorry for late post. No smut in this one. Fingers crossed that I don't die of flu!_

CHAPTER 3

"You smell funny," Ruby mumbled over her burger.

"Gee, thanks," Belle grumbled at her, then lifting a strand of her hair, she carefully sniffed it. "I can't smell anything. You probably have a nose full of ketchup anyway. Can't you eat like a normal human being?"

"No, no. It's definitely you. You usually smell all rosy and girlie. You don't smell like that now." Ruby continued chewing her burger thoughtfully. "You smell like... It's more... earthy... sort of...", her eyes grew wide with realization. "Oh my gods, you smell like sex!"

Belle blushed furiously and shook her head, staring at her food. Ruby couldn't possibly know, could she? Had she seen them? If she had, she wouldn't have waited until now to bring it up. Hell, if she had, she would have dragged Gold off of Belle, thinking the situation to be something it wasn't.

"I do not 'smell like sex', Ruby. What the hell does sex smell like anyway?" she asked, trying to sound surprised and insulted, all the while hiding her embarrassment behind her hair.

"Weeeeeeell, it's... musky and heavy and... Hey! Stop trying to distract me! Why do you smell like sex? It's not a lot but it's still there. And even if I couldn't smell it, your face is redder than my coat. Out with it!"

Belle looked at her friend through her eyelashes, still trying in vain to hide the redness in her cheeks. What could she say? _Oh yes, Ruby, I had the most intoxicating sexual experience of my life with a man I met last night, in my bloody workplace_. Yeah, yeah, that would just go over great. Ruby would have an exorcism performed on her! How much to divulge? She had no hope of explaining the blush and the nervousness away..

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. You know I'm n-not seeing anybody." Belle stuttered.

Ruby looked at her like a seasoned investigator. There was something up with her quiet friend. She smelled like that, she was evasive, stuttering. Hiding behind her... Belle always kept her hair tidy when she went to work. Why was it down now, at her lunch break? Where was the tightly controlled librarian bun? She reached out in a calming gesture, patting Belle's shoulder.

"There, there. I didn't mean to upset you."

Then with a flick of the wrist she pushed the hair back over Belle's shoulder. Letting out a triumphant "A-ha!" she examined what she found. There was an angry red crescent at the crook of Belle's neck. It was teeth marks! Ruby wasn't sure what she had expected to find, but it certainly hadn't been teeth marks.

"Spill. Now."

Belle tried to look anywhere but her friend. Ruby never approve. She'd call her crazy. Explaining herself to Ruby was not something she felt like doing right then. With a sigh, she decided on doing damage control.

"You remember last night, right?"

"It was Gold? Gold did this to you? Is he why you smell like that?"

"He came to the library...", Belle offered, smiling slightly at the thought. It had been quite unexpected and quite... eventful.

"So, he's stalking you now?!"

"Oh, hush, Ruby!", she hissed. She'd had quite enough of this pointless outrage of Ruby's. "Do you want to know what happened or not? If you're going to chastise me for everything, then I'd rather not tell you. Now you pick: juicy details or silence. Your call entirely." Contently, she leaned back in the booth, smugly smiling at her friend. If there was something Ruby couldn't pass up, it was good gossip. Belle waited, knowing her friend was about to lay down her arms. A small victory was at hand.

With an exasperated and overly dramatic sigh, Ruby leaned on the opposite side of the booth. Crossing her arms, she admitted defeat.

"All right, fine. I promise not to judge." A little evil grin spread across her features. Leaning her elbows back on the table, her fingers entwined, she nodded. "Now tell me. What happened and how was it?"

"He came to see me, out of the blue. I don't know how he found out where I worked. He came up behind me and..."

There was a small, expectant nod from Ruby, showing she was paying attention. How much to tell her?

"And... he talked to me a little and then he started kissing my neck... Oh, Ruby..." She drifted off, remembering. From the moment her initial fear at being cornered dissipated, the whole experience had been unreal. Things like this didn't happen, did they? You didn't just feel this in tune with somebody you just met. Shifting her attention back to Ruby, she continued. "Then he turned me around and kissed me, and..."

"How was it? Is he any good at it, or is he all stiff and gross and tastes like mold? I wouldn't be surprised, with all that old crap in his shop." Ruby cut her off.

Belle scowled.

"I'll have you know, he tastes lovely." She barely suppressed a nervous giggle at the thought of knowing how more than one part of his anatomy tasted. "And he is an amazingly good kisser. It was intense and passionate and felt like he could have stolen my soul away."

There was a grumble from Ruby that sounded suspiciously like "knowing him, he would have". Belle chose to ignore it.

"So, how did you leave it? Are you seeing him again? I guess at this point it's useless for me to try to convince you not to. I can see that goofy expression on your face. I've had it more than once, I know what that means. You've got a crush on the mean old monster." Ruby chirped in a sing-song tone, clapping her hands.

"Quiet, you! I don't want the whole diner to hear!"

"So? When are you seeing him again?"

"I don't know," Belle replied, feeling suddenly sad. "After we were done... kissing, he smiled and told me he'd see me soon." It was a lie, of course. She wasn't about to tell her overprotective friend that he had called her "talented". She wasn't going to share what exactly had earned her that particular bit of praise. He had winked at her, a grin filled with wicked promises gracing his features. Then he was gone. He may as well have vanished in a puff of smoke.

Oddly, she hadn't felt used. It surprised her. She had gone on with her day like nothing had happened. She tucked the memory safely away as something not quite real. Things like that only happened in books, the books that were kept on the topmost shelf, out of reach of children. The books she would cover with her sweater after checking them out of the library. The books with Fabio on the cover.

Gold was by no means a romantic hero. He was not some genius hunk, secretly simmering with noble passion and willing to sleep on the wet spot. He was ostensibly bad, though. Fixable? Maybe. She didn't want to fix him, though. Her life was given a spark of adventure that would fuel her imagination for years to come. She needed nothing more.

She didn't need it, no, but still, in a secret place where her nerve endings danced a happy jig remembering the taste of him, she hoped she would get more.


End file.
